I'll Bear That Cross With Honour
by Diary
Summary: Warning: If self-harm is triggering, it might be best to avoid this fic. Re-posted under a different title. Toad puts Kurt in a moral dilemma, and the two have something resembling a philosophical exchange of ideas. Complete.


Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men Evolution.

* * *

"What in the heavens-!"

"Chill, dawg," Toad says, casually. He carefully sets the knife down and pushes it over, being mindful not to make any sudden movements. "This ain't as bad as you're thinking."

"You were cutting yourself," Kurt sputters, grabbing the pocket knife and closing it. Slipping it into his pocket, he quickly moves over, grabbing the other mutant's arm.

The damage is superficial: thin and shallow, blood pooling to the surface but not overflowing. Automatically, Kurt looks around for something to clean it with.

"No," Toad says, pulling his arm away. "Ain't gonna clean it, fuzzy."

Tentatively, Kurt starts to say, "Listen, no matter how bad things seem at the moment-"

Toad's laughter cuts him off. "Dawg," Toad pratically howls in amusement, "I ain't suicidal or cutting myself 'cause I'm sad. Chill, 'kay?"

Sceptical, Kurt asks, "What other reason could you possibly have for doing such a horrible thing?"

"Fuzzy, I've seen that da Code movie, and at first, I thought that really pale guy was just whack, but I talked to a priest, and it turns out, some of y'all Catholics really do hit yourselves and wear things that make ya bleed. So, uh-"

"How do you know I am Catholic," Kurt interrupts, bewildered.

"I dunno," Toad answers, shrugging. "It 'posed to be a secret?"

"No, I suppose not," Kurt answers, cautiously sitting down on the forest ground. "But why are you, then?"

Leaning back on his elbows, a position Kurt unconsciously copies, Toad says, contemplatively, "Every time you X-Geeks fight us or those football guys go after me, Lance and 'em hold me down and clean me wit' alcohol. It don't hurt, but- that ain't the point. I don't want 'em to clean me, but Lance says that if I get infected, that means y'all have won something, and we caint let y'all win anything if we cans help it. Or the football guys."

"I don't understand," Kurt says, eyeing the arm.

"When I was ten, I got a cut. I handed my teacher a paper, and somehow, my finger got too close ta the edge. Small, didn't really hurt. But it got bad, yo. Really, really bad. Got to where I just laid on the floor, couldn't see or hear or smell. Couldn't move. Thought, that was it. I was gonna die. It hurt, fuzzy. Hurt so bad. Sharp pins, dull aches, feeling like creepy-crawlies was all over me."

Sighing, Toad says, "Eventually, though, the light started bothering my eyes. Then, when it got dark, couldn't see much, but I could make out shapes. Started hearing and smelling again. There were flies, and it took a long time to catch them. 'Cause, my tongue didn't really work like normal. 'Ventually, though, I managed to move. Got my clothes off, took a shower wit' no soap, went out an' stole some of that non-drinking alcohol. Had rashes all over my body, and none of my clothes fit, I was so skinny. After that, though, I never get sick. Never got infected."

"I'm sorry you had to go through that," Kurt says, in genuine sympathy. "But what does that-"

"Missin' the point, dawg," Toad says. "Since Lance and 'em started cleaning the bruises an' stuff, I've caught a cold. I got a flu. An' I know it was surviving that infection that made me so strong. Your professor, he and your mama both say something big an' bad is coming. Well, I ain't gonna let myself end up lying somewhere, possibly dying, while there's a freaking war going on. So, I figure, if I'm the one who made the cut, Lance and 'em won't have no right to clean it. Ain't you or the football players who win if something happens to me."

"Uh, just out of curiosity, what happens when you trip? I've seen that happen before."

"Usually, they do, too," Toad answers. "And when they don't, I make the stupid mistake of complaining 'bout it. But I ain't gonna make that mistake this time."

Taking a deep breath, Kurt says, "You almost died. And you want to risk dying again."

"Seriously, dawg, this ain't about me wanting to die."

"Maybe you don't want to die, but you're determined to do something that you know could lead to that!"

"You're determined to be an X-Men," Toad counters. "Y'all risk death all the time, trying to help people. And anyone tries to stop you, y'all let 'em have it."

"That's different!" Kurt mutters something in German. "We, we help people. You want to risk death because it might make you stronger."

Scoffing, Toad hops into his usual crouching position, turning to face the blue mutant. "Y'know, when your sis's boy came 'round, he had me wrapped in a fiery carpet. Now, the others, they coulda insisted on throwing him out. But they didn't. They listened when he said listen, and they didn't even try to attack 'til I was free. I know we ain't known for our loyalty to much, and I'll be the first to admit that when trouble comes, I'll be in the nearest hidin' place. But whether you believe it or not, when someone does what they did for me, I'm not gonna take it lightly. So, I figure I either get stronger, so, I can help when the bad comes, 'cause, I know for sure Wanda'll be fighting, and I'm pretty sure Lance'll, too, and the others, well, it just depends, or I die 'round people who'll miss me. Don't like the second option, fuzzy, but you'd die for any of the X-Geeks. That means ya have no right to say I can't risk mine for 'em."

"Gambit and Rogue aren't dating," Kurt automatically declares. Seeing Toad's look, he sheepishly rubs his head. "Uh, which isn't really the point."

"Not at all," Toad agrees.

"I- Look, I understand the loyalty. But how do you even know that this cut will get infected?"

"Don't," Toad answers, shrugging. "It doesn't, I keep trying."

"Oh, yes. There's nothing suicidal about that!"

"Nightcrawler, you saw the cut. Not gonna bleed to death. 'Sides, it don't have to be cuts. I can bang into things or make myself trip."

"Do you have any idea how you sound?"

"Do ya have any idea how some of the plans y'all X-Geeks come up wit' would sound to regular people?"

"Not the point! We help people. Risking your life for people, that's good. But- Wait," he pauses. "How are you so confident you can cut without hitting anything major or making the cut too deep?"

Grinning, Toad says, "Promise not to tell anyone?"

"Ja," Kurt agrees, sounding unsure.

"'Fore Mystique found me, there was this crazy dude who set up traps for bears and lions and stuff, even though there weren't none of those around. But sometimes, cats and dogs would get caught in them. Couldn't leave 'em there, so, I learned how to free 'em."

Suddenly, the grin fell, and cautiously, subtly scooting away from Kurt, he says, "But the only way to do that was to cut some of them. Didn't want to, but seriously, dawg, no other way. Managed to learn how ta do it without making the cut too deep or hitting bone, though. Once I got them out, all I had to do was clean the cut and wrap it. Didn't take long for 'em to heal."

For a long moment, Kurt simply looks at him. Then, slowly, he says, "I believe you. It's just hard to believe. Um, no offence."

"I still eat bugs and other animals," Toad points out, a little less cautiously. "If I told ya I killed them, you wouldn't really care, but say you cut a cat or dog, and people don't even let you explain before they start in."

Leaning forward, Kurt says, in wonderment, "You don't like hypocrisy. Not at all."

Scoffing, Toad hops back over. "Why ya think Lance ain't killed me, yet? I may have my quirky charms, and he may be a hard-nose bully, but we know who we are."

"Quirky charms," Toad repeats, incredulously.

Shrugging, Toad says, "You have the professor or your priest or the voice in your head tellin' ya what's right and wrong; well, whether you believe it or not, so do I. I wanna live, I listen to your mama and Lance. Other times, I don't do anything that causes my voice ta act up. Our voices just have different ideas, yo."

Kurt looks down, wearily. "When we risk our lives to help people, death is still something we try our hardest to avoid. We plan to avoid any harm. If harm happens, we go on, but we- It's rare for us to take a plan of action where harm is an active part of it rather than a variable we have to take into account."

"Right," Toad says, sceptical. "Dude, we know about the danger-thingy room. It hurts y'all."

"Hurts, not puts us in risk of death!"

"'Less it goes whack."

"That was Mystique's fault," Kurt says, pointedly, glaring.

"Yeah. Her fault," Toad says. "Not ours. I'm the only one who can hack, and best I can do is get free porn and change our grades."

"You can get free porn without hacking," Kurt automatically says.

When Toad starts rolling on the ground, laughing, Kurt says, "I mean- Tabby and Evan are the ones- Would you stop-"

Eventually, he gives up and simply pulls Toad up, smacking him on the back of the head. "Shut up, you smelly toad."

It takes some time, but Toad gets to a point where he just snickers occasionally. "Look, fuzzy, you wanna tell people what I'm trying to do, I can't stop you. But telling them ain't gonna stop me. I don't wanna die, but the risk is part'a getting stronger. An' I need to take that risk. The Brotherhood ain't my family, and we ain't really even friends. But I ain't the kind who forgets those who help me. You, Cyclops, Tabs, your mama, and them. In the end, I'll still fight you and him if I haf'ta, but I hope I don't."

"Surely, you can get stronger without-"

"Dawg, we've fought, and I've more-or-less held my own. We get in a real war, though, and there ain't gonna be much alcohol we can git. There's gonna be stuff that make colds an' flus easy to attack."

"I-I-"

Looking at him in something akin to sympathy, Toad says, "Your call, Nightcrawler. Ya do wat' ya gotta do, and I'll do what I gotta."

"I won't tell the Brotherhood," Kurt promises, slowly, "if you let me clean that cut. I can't have that on my conscience."

"No soap," Toad warns. "Has to be alcohol or some other kinda of cut-cleaning thing."

"Okay," Kurt agrees.

"Gonna give me my knife back?"

"After I clean the cut."

"Deal," Toad says, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Port away, fuzzy."

000

"What's wrong, my son," the young, conservative nun inquires.

"Sister, do you believe a person has a right to die?"

Pouring some more tea in her cup, she considers it. "I believe a person should have a secular, legal right to. Theologically, no. I don't condemn those who seek suicide, but I cannot condone their act. It's best to offer them both medical and spiritual help."

"What about people who choose to risk their lives but don't want death?"

"A person can choose to do something without realising the risk to their life," she says, gently. "What's bothering you so deeply?"

"I know a boy who was cutting himself," Kurt confesses. "And I really don't think he wants to die, but he's determined to get an infection, knowing it might kill him."

"An infection?"

"He's a mutant," Kurt says, uneasily. Sister Marie has always had a non-judgemental attitude towards mutants, decrying the oppression and hatred directed at them. However, he's yet to be comfortable when the two talk about the subject, and she still doesn't know about his status. "Once, when he was younger, a paper cut got infected, and he almost died. Once he healed, however, he had a much stronger immune system and protection from future infections."

"Then, why is he trying to give himself another infection," she inquires, looking simply puzzled and vaguely worried.

"His friends force him to clean any injuries he receives, and he's gotten mildly sick. Colds, a flu, that sort of thing. He thinks it's because of the cleaning."

"Oh," she says, thoughtfully. "Kurt, are his parents or friends someone you would feel comfortable going to? I want to help, of course, but I don't know much, if anything, about mutant biology. If he were a normal human, I'd say his problem was purely psychological. With him being a child, I'd insist on getting him help. But if he's right that surviving a deadly infection would truly make him healthier in the future, I'm not sure if I know the correct response."

"He doesn't have parents, Sister, and I promised I wouldn't tell his friends."

"Are there any other mutants you know who would be willing to help him? That you feel comfortable in telling?"

"Yes," Kurt answers, quietly.

"If you think he has the right to do this to himself, that doesn't make you a bad person," she says, reaching over to pat his gloved hands. "In the end, his choices are his to make. You have to make the choices best for you."

"Sister, what do you think about what he's trying to do," he asks, desperately.

"What I personally think isn't important," she answers. "A child is harming himself, knowing full well he could die. Normally, I'd consider calling child protective services, but a mutant." She shakes her head. "That falls under special circumstances. When it comes to homosexual, pregnant, or mutant children, things must be handled with extreme care."

Before Kurt can apologise for putting her in such an awful dilemma, she reaches over and takes his hand. "You have to make the choices best for you," she repeats. "As cold as this will sound, if you feel him dying would be blood on your hands, you must tell someone you can trust, someone who has more power than I do at the moment. If you feel you can let him do this and not feel guilty, no matter what the outcome, then, let your friend do this."

"But if I do, will I be responsible if something happens?"

"I don't think so," she answers. "But only God can judge you. I know you must think badly of me for always giving you the same advice, but: Forget secular laws, forget The Bible and the sermons you have heard, forget what others think, and simply pray. Listen to your heart, and God will send you an answer. After praying, whatever you're feelings, whatever your thoughts, there's a good chance they are God-sent."

"It's good advice, Sister," Kurt says, squeezing her hand. "It's responsible for getting me through some very difficult times and decisions."

000

"Tabitha?"

"Hey, blue," the blonde says, jumping up. "Dance with me, 'kay?"

As he does, she says, "Some thing's eating you. What is it?"

"You're not part of the brotherhood, but I know you care about them."

"I'm gonna need to sit down for this, aren't I?"

"It would be a good idea," he acknowledges, softly.

000

Author's Notes: Sister Marie makes another appearance in my fic "Dealing With Realisations".


End file.
